


Innocence Lost

by JustJenn



Category: NCIS, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode: s01e18 Something Wicked, Gen, John is a bad father, Weechesters, no beta reader-sorry, now AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJenn/pseuds/JustJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An au ending for “Something Wicked” where John does the unthinkable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to get over a bad case of writer's block. This is a one shot for now.

“Innocence, Once Lost, Can Never Be Regained." John Milton

\---

Dean Winchester sighed wearily has he walked back to the run down motel that his family was calling home. Four days ago he had really screwed up when a Shtriga, a vampire like monster that fed on the life force of children, had broken into their room while he was playing a video game machine in the motel lobby. Damn thing had almost killed Sammy before John had driven the Shtriga off, but the damage had been done. Sammy had been listless for several days, barely having enough energy to eat or get out of bed.

Dean had expected his Dad to yell and scream or him, lecture him about how irresponsible he was or beat the crap out of him but that didn’t happen. Instead John Winchester had completely ignored him. He ignored Dean frantic apologies, ignored his questions and treated Dean like he didn’t exist. Too make things worse; Sammy had started doing the same thing.

Dean had soundlessly cried himself to sleep on his new bed which was a pile of blankets on the filthy motel room floor and left very early this morning to avoid Sam and his Dad. He skipped school and spent the entire day wandering around Fort Douglas and spent his last three dollars at 7-11 on a Big Gulp, two hot dogs and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. On principle, he stole two packs of gum and a bag of Skittles while the cashier was busy with other customers. Hopefully Sammy would accept the Skittles as a peace offering. Hopefully Dad would forgive him and start talking to him again.

He went into the motel parking lot and looked around uneasily; the Impala was missing from its parking spot in front of their room. _It’s nothing, Dad probably went to get supper or something for Sammy,_ Dean thought fiercely to himself ignoring his pounding heart and clammy hands. His hands were shaking has he unlocked the motel room door and pushed it open. “Dad? Sammy?”

Dean stared at the motel room in numb horror, unaware of the tears dripping down his face. The room was clean and clearly ready for the next occupants.

A heartbroken wail echoed through the parking lot.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had hung around the parking lot for two days hoping and praying that his dad would come back but that dream went up in smoke when a couple had checked into their old motel room.

Dean had been left with three choices: go to the police and end up in foster care, find Dad and Sam or strike out on his own. Foster care was out of the question; John had told him too many horror stories about kids who ended up in foster care. Trying to find his Dad was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Chances were Dad was in another state by now under new alias. In the end he picked option number three. After all, he was almost eleven years and John had trained him how to take care of himself. He had stolen a beat up Honda and drove down to Milwaukee using the back roads. He ditched the car in a nameless shopping centre parking lot and spent the next two days stealing anything that could be sold with no questions asked until he had two hundred dollars in his pocket. Dean went to the parking lot of a local movie theater, waited until the late show started and stole a piece of crap Dodge and made it to Chicago before the engine crapped out.

Dean hitched a ride with some farm workers on their way to a rundown farm outside Gray, Indiana. He had worked for two days making slave wages picking tomatoes and peppers before taking off because he didn’t like the way the owner was watching him. On principle he broke into the owner’s shitty office and stole one hundred bucks in petty cash and his stash of pot. He sold the pot at a truck stop and for a price, he hitched a ride to Lafayette with an old trucker who went on and on about his wonderful son and wife and his amazing grandkids. 

In Lafayette, he struck gold when he overheard an older couple who were planning on driving to the East Coast to visit their grandchildren in their brand new RV along with their car. Dean bought several days worth of food, water, batteries for his stolen Walkman and hid in the back seat of the car mentally thanking the owners for the tinted windows: no one could see in. No one would pulled them over and ask about the kid in the back seat.

His luck ran out in Pennsylvania. The Allens decided to visit some old friends in Pittsburgh and Dean sure as hell didn’t want to hang around Pittsburgh for the weekend so he reluctantly say goodbye to car that had been home for four days. As a gesture of courtesy, he didn’t steal the twenty dollars tucked away in the sun visor. Dean went to the local mall waited until sunset and stole another beat up car, ditched it at another mall three hundred miles away and repeated the same pattern again and again until he reached Washington DC.

Dean decided to stay in Washington for the rest of the summer with a vague idea of heading south in September. Washington DC in the summer was filled with tourist and easy pickings as far as Dean was concerned. Wallets, cameras, Walkmans and other sundries were stolen and quickly resold. He slept in abandoned buildings and ate most of his meals at the various fast food outlets scattered throughout the city. Showers were taken at the local YMCA when he could sneak in.

All of that changed on September 15th when Dean caught a cold. It started off has an annoying cough, stuffed up nose and aches and pains. He guzzled cough syrup for the cold, sucked on Halls for his sore throat and popped aspirin like candy for the aches and pains but instead of getting better, it got worse. Dean vaguely remembered going into drug store intent on stealing more cough syrup and waking up in Mercy Hospital.

A hard face nurse curtly informed him that he had passed out and he was suffering from pneumonia, and a Social Worker was on her way to talk to him. Mary Jackson was a no nonsense woman who didn’t buy Dean’s brand of bullshit and five days later, Dean was escorted to Greenville Home for Boys in Maryland.

The Greenville Home for Boys re-enforced every horror story that John had ever told him about foster care. It was loud, dirty, overcrowded and staffed by men and women who were overworked, unpaid and didn’t give a crap about their charges. He shared a room with two other boys: Justin, who was convinced his dad was coming any day to get him and Luca who never spoke a word. Dean lasted two days before getting into his first fight when an older boy tried to jump him in the bathroom. It was no contest; Bradley went down hard and fast with a broken nose and Dean was labeled a troublemaker.

Dean spent two weeks at Greenville before he was sent to a foster home in Lakeside, Maryland. The Connors, Matt and Cindy and their son Philip already had two foster boys (Steve and Drew) and of course they had room for one more. The Connors pretended to be happy couple in public but behind closed doors it was a different story. Matt had a drinking problem and liked to use his fists on the boys and Cindy loved to watch. His stay with the Connors had ended abruptly when Matt wrapped his car around a telephone pole killing himself, Cindy, Philip, Drew and Steve: Dean had been in detention when the accident had happened. 

Dean was placed with the Whitby Family and that lasted two weeks. The Whitby’s saw their foster kids has money machines and treated them accordingly. The family ate like kings when their three foster kids ate scraps and were treated like slaves. Dean decided he was better on his own and at the first opportunity stole whatever he could and took off to Baltimore and spent four months living on the streets before being arrested for selling stolen goods. Dean spent three weeks at Greenville before he was placed with Bob and Lisa Crosswells, their two biological kids (Joey and Bob Jr) and their two foster kids (Jayson and Moe)

The Crosswells had been okay; they didn’t hit the kids, drink or do drugs but they spent money like water and had fallen behind on the mortgage and eventually lost their house. So it back to Greenville again for a week’s stay before he was placed with the Briands. Tim Braind was timid man who was ruled by his domineering wife Alice who was quick with the insults, slaps, kicks and punches. Dean had been about to run when she had been arrested for child abuse.

His next foster family was just as bad. Mike Bolt had a serious drug problem and had been busted for coke possession and it was back to Greenville for another two week stay. His new case worker Joan Foster (his old one had retired) had informed him that he would be leaving with another foster family, the Gibbs, after lunch.

Dean made all the appropriate noises when they were introduced; Shannon Gibbs was a slender red head with green eyes and wore her emotions on her face. Jethro Gibbs had greying brown hair and deep blue eyes that missed nothing. Their daughter Kelly was not present.

Dean grimaced in disgust when he saw their minivan with a Soccer Mom bumper sticker and slumped in the back seat answering the few questions that were directed towards him in a monotone. He gave the house a cursory look; a two story house with a nice front lawn complete with flowers and shrubs and three Adirondack chairs on the long porch. The interior was a duplicate of dozens of houses he had visited over the years: large living room, fire place, dining room, kitchen, small bathroom, staircase leading to the upstairs to the bedrooms, patio door leading to the backyard and another door leading to the basement.

Dean threw his duffle bag on bed and looked around his new bedroom with a well practiced eye. The walls were painted light green and the wooden floor gleamed in the sunlight. He had a double sized bed with light blue comforter with matching sheets and pillows. The furniture was nothing fancy, just a wooden dresser, empty bookcase, a night table with a clock-radio and reading lamp, and a small desk and chair tucked away in the corner. His bedroom window was conveniently next to a large tree so he could sneak out at night. He opened the closet and stared at the new winter jacket, boots, shirts and jeans in the closet before closing the door.

Dean quickly unpacked his meager belonging; a few changes of clothing, spare pair of second hand running shoes, five books and a few car magazines, a Walkman and disc player, several cassettes and Cds and a baseball he caught at a Baltimore Oriels game a year ago on a rare outing with his foster family. His life savings (three hundred dollars) was hidden inside his old Walkman, his jacket lining and underneath the sole of his running shoes and his homemade shiv was hidden inside his belt buckle. Dean sat down on his bed and rubbed his side of his face with a weary sigh. So far the Gibbs seemed like a nice family but he had been fooled in the past.

A car door slammed shut and the front door flew opened with a bang and he could hear Shannon’s cheerful voice, followed by Gibbs deeper voice.

_That must be Kelly, their kid,_ Dean thought to himself, _probably another brat who thinks she’s better than me because she has real parents._

Two minutes later, someone knocked on his bedroom and he grunted something that sounded like ‘come in’ and small girl peered in cautiously before coming into his room.

“Hi Dean, I’m Kelly!” the girl said happily holding out her hand. Dean studied as he shook her hand. She had Shannon’s red hair in a messy braid, green eyes and she was missing one front tooth. She had grass stains on her socks and knees, mud on her shorts and her t-shirt had seen better days. She caught his look and grinned. “We had an impromptu soccer game this afternoon and I kinda got dirty.”

“Yeah I can see that,” Dean said awkwardly. None of his previous foster parents had girls and the girls he had met on the streets did not trust boys or men. “You like soccer?”

“You bet! I’m on the inner city team this year,” Kelly replied enthusiastically bouncing up and down raining bit and pieces of grass and mud on the floor. “I’m the youngest on my team. Do you play soccer? I’m a forward and I’ve scored seven goals so far.”

“Sports isn’t my thing,” Dean muttered sourly. None of his foster parents had bothered to enroll him sports and his dad, no John, thought that organized sports was a waste of his time and money. John’s idea of sports was a two mile run followed by a grueling workout and target practice regardless of the weather or state of well being. “Baseball’s okay I guess.”

“Daddy loves baseball,” Kelly said cheerfully. “Look I gotta get changed; mom wants to know if you want a snack or something. Supper not for another two hours and I’m really hungry!”

“Sure,” Dean replied. The one thing he had learnt was to eat anything that was offered to him regardless if he wasn’t hungry and not to be picky. More than one meal had been scrounged from a garbage can or a dumpster.

“Great! I’ll see you downstairs in ten minutes,” Kelly replied before running off to her room then to the bathroom.

Dean went downstairs and took a better look around the living room. There were pictures on the walls, and on the fire place mantle. Wedding pictures, baby pictures, vacation pictures and a picture of a younger Gibbs in the formal dress blues of the United States Marine Corps and another picture of an older Gibbs in his MARPAT’s, holding a snipers rifle with a burning oil well in the background. 

“Gibbs is retired in case you’re wondering,” Shannon called out has she leaned against the door way of the kitchen. “Got injured in Desert Storm when a shell landed less than three meters away from him and it messed up his back and knees.”

Shannon had been beside herself when she got word that Gibbs had been badly hurt towards the end of Desert Storm. Kelly had cried herself sick and flatly refused to leave her dad’s side when he had been shipped stateside almost a month later. Gibbs had accepted a medical discharge and promptly joined NIS now NCIS and quickly rose through the ranks until he was Senior Special Agent.

“Ouch,” Dean muttered following Shannon into the cozy kitchen. He sat down at the kitchen table and with Shannon’s nod; he took a blueberry muffin and a glass of milk and he watched Shannon start preparing supper. She rapidly chopped up some vegetables and adding them into a simmering pot of pasta sauce. Dean’s mouth started to water, he couldn’t remember the last time he had homemade pasta sauce.

“Where is your husband?” Dean asked awkwardly after he finished his muffin and taking his plate and glass to the sink and leaned against the kitchen counter. He could hear Kelly thumping around her bedroom as she got dressed.

“Downstairs sanding,” Shannon said with a mysterious smile. “He’s working on a special project with Kelly. And speak of the devil,” has Kelly all but ran into the kitchen, grabbed a muffin and crammed most of it into her mouth. “Hey Kelly, did you hang up your towels this time or am I going to find them on the floor again?”

“Hung them up,” Kelly replied around a mouth full of muffin. She swallowed when she saw her mother’s faint frown. “Sorry mom.” She knew her mom was an easy going person but didn’t tolerate bad manners. “Is Dad downstairs? Shannon nodded and Kelly grinned at Dean. “You gotta come downstairs and see what Dad is building the basement. It is so cool!”

“Umm,” Dean said in an uncertain voice. Basements held bad memories for Dean. The Connors use to stage their fights in the basement and Dean knew that terrible things like to hide in the basement. He killed two Rawheads last year and a homeless person had attacked Dean with a knife resulting in a long scar down Dean’s left arm.

“Trust me Dean, just wait until you see what Daddy is building down there,” Kelly pleaded making her puppy dog eyes that painfully reminded Dean of Sam. “Please?”  


“Okay,” Dean said with a deep sigh and followed Kelly down into the basement. Shannon grinned to herself and waited.

“How the hell are you gonna get a boat out of the basement?”


End file.
